The Aftermath
by Min Daae
Summary: Immediately after the Purge, the change is audible. Kaeleer is silent, and those who loved the Queen strive to understand. Spoilers for QotD, ONESHOT, the usual. Rating for safety.


Morghann couldn't stay still, pacing back and forth across the living room, grief and anger boiling like poison under her skin, hands clenching and unclenching. The clock ticked in the corner and she turned and glare at it. 

"Morghann…"

She knew what he would say. Go to bed, go to sleep, you need your rest. "No," she snapped, turning to look at her husband. She almost felt bad for her temper, for the way he seemed shrunken, unshaven, his always-laughing eyes dull with misery. But of course, she couldn't blame him for that. No doubt she would see the same look reflected in her own eyes. "You should sleep. You look exhausted," she told him. 

He shook his head stubbornly. "You stay up, so do I," he said wearily. "At least come sit down. You'll wear a hole in the carpet."

Morghann wheeled on him, furious. "She's _gone. _How can you be so calm?" 

"Calm?" Khardeen laughed hoarsely. "No, just tired, sad." He sighed. "No amount of yelling will bring her back, Morghann. Yelling, or pacing, or…"

Morghann's eyes stung. _Neither will crying, _she wanted to say. Suddenly she felt tired, exhausted, and so _sick _of all of it. She stumbled to Khardeen and let him hold her. She could feel his tears through her clothes on her shoulder. 

"I just don't believe it," Morghann said, trying to hold onto the anger. "I just don't…she wouldn't have left us without saying goodbye." Stubbornly, she clung to that. 

"If it was the only way…if she thought we might stop her…"

Morghann pounded a fist into Khardeen's chest, tears overflowing. "No," she said harshly, hating that he was right. "No. She wouldn't. She couldn't." She choked on the lies, forcing them out. 

"Damn you, Jaenelle," she said thickly. "It isn't right. It isn't fair." She clung to Khardeen, burying her face in his chest. 

"I know," Khardeen said softly. "I know."

* * *

"What's the use?" Gabrielle sprawled on a couch at SaDiablo Hall, face blotchy with used up tears, staring emptily at the ceiling. "What's the_point?_" 

Chaosti sighed, feeling limp and exhausted, drained to the breaking point. "We're alive," he said wearily, trying to convince himself. "The taint is gone. She saved us. All the Realms." 

He felt her temper flare a moment before she pounced on him, a knee in his belly, shaking him vigorously. "At what _cost, _Chaosti? At what_cost?_"

"Maybe we don't –"

She punched him in the belly and sprang up, pacing to the window. He gasped for breath. "Dammit, Chaosti. Don't pretend you don't care. Don't pretend you're not –"

"Gabrielle, _ouch._"

"You're changing the subject, and I'm not sorry anyway." 

"You're being selfish," he said, harshly. "If it were you in Jaenelle's place –"

"It doesn't matter if it were me!" Gabrielle cried, anguished. "It was Jaenelle! Think ofr a moment instead of hiding behind that damned _it is what it is _attitude. Who brought the kindred out? Who opened the closed territories? _Who united Kaeleer? _And what will happen now that she's d-dead?" Her voice shook involuntarily on that word. So final. 

Chaosti felt a chill. "Where's Ladvarian?" 

Gabrielle's voice was hollow as she turned to look at him; her face bleak. "Gone. He's not here." 

Chaosti shook his head. Gabrielle put her arms around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Why didn't she tell use? We could have helped…"

He sighed and just held her. He could feel her shaking, trying not to cry. 

"I'm going to miss her so much…"

He didn't respond to that. "Let's go find Uncle Saetan. I don't want him to be alone right now." 

She nodded. "Okay." She sighed. "I want her back…"

Chaosti didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

* * *

"Mama?" 

"Shhh, Arianna." 

"What's wrong?" 

Kalush pulled her daughter close and tried not to let the tears show. "Don't worry. We're safe." 

"Where's Papa?" 

Outside, trying to pour out his grief and rage in comforting the city, soothing and explaining what little they knew. She wanted to be there too, but the look he'd given her had silenced her protests…and there was Arianna to think of. "He'll be back soon, dear."

"What happened? When's Jaenelle going to be back?" 

Her heart twanged painfully, like an instrument out of tune. She tried to sound calm. Confident, soothing. "Remember the bad men? Jaenelle was making them all go away." 

Arianna's face, even small and sweet, had a touch of feral satisfaction. "Oh. Good." A pause. "And where's Jaenelle now?"

Kalush felt a lump rise in her throat and closed her eyes. A lie was out of the question, but what could she say? "Arianna, love…" 

"Kalush? Kalush, where are you?" Aaron's voice was harried and harsh, but she could hear the worry, the fear, and the numb, deep buried grief. 

"I'm here." 

He was there in moments, pressing his face into her hair. "Kalush," he breathed. 

"How is it?" She asked tentatively, almost fearing the answer. 

He shrugged and held her closer. "Confused. Afraid. The children were better off…"

Kalush drew a deep, shuddering breath. "They would be. Jaenelle would take care of the children…she never would have wanted to hurt the children." 

She could feel him tense. "Damn all Terreille," he said viciously. 

"Lucivar's from Terreille," she said slowly, "And Marian…"

Aaron shook his head, a soft snarl whispering in his throat. "Yeah, and look what it did to them." 

Kalush shuddered. She didn't want to think about Daemonar in the hands of those_people…_not to mention the new scars she'd seen in Lucivar's eyes, the new bitterness and raw pain. "And Daemon…" She whispered, barely audibly. 

Aaron snorted, and she felt him hold her tighter. No one knew what Daemon had done. Only rumors, vague whispers. It was enough to make the boyos wary of him, even if Jaenelle had loved him. Kalush didn't know what to think. 

Arianna tugged at her sleeve, demanding attention. "Mama, mama," she said insistently. "I want Jaenelle back. When will she be back?" 

Kalush closed her eyes, unable to hold back a shuddering sob. "I don't know, Arianna love," she whispered. "I don't know. A very long time."

Arianna started to cry. "Auntie Jaenelle's _gone?_"

Kalush pulled her daughter into her lap and rocked her back and forth, her sweet child smell soothing, even with the tight knot of grief gathering in her belly. Aaron held the both of them close. She could feel his tension, his bitter resentment and the sorrow so deeply buried he wouldn't admit it existed. "I'm sorry," she whispered to her sobbing young daughter. "I'm so sorry…" 

Arianna would not be silenced. She cried on, wailing wildly, and Kalush envied her.

* * *

Lucivar still wasn't sure whether to cry or rage. He stroked Daemonar's hair back from his small, smooth forehead, his mouth slightly open and his face still wet with tears, before looking at Marian. She was watching him with that small, worried frown he had come to know so well.

"He's asleep," he said, softly. 

"I know." She reached over their son, cuddled between them, and touched his cheek. "I hope you're not blaming yourself." 

He shook his head. "No, I just…" He sighed, wearily. "I thought we'd saved her. Lorn said –"

Marian bit her lip and looked down. "Draca didn't say Jaenelle was dead."

He pulled away and rolled to his back, looking at the ceiling. "Marian…she shattered the Ebony. Do you really want her to come back broken? I don't…I don't want to see what that would do to her. It's been my nightmare for years."

Marian sighed and fell silent. Lucivar sighed too. "Will Daemonar be all right?"

She nodded. "They didn't hurt him. Just frightened him." _Us. _

He tensed, feeling sick at the thought of his small son in the hands of those bitches. "No…they wouldn't want to damage him. Not after trying to get a child of mine for centuries. They paused, deliberately not looking at Daemonar as he stirred in his sleep with a small cry. 

"He's safe now," Marian said softly. Lucivar met her eyes, his gaze raw and bleeding.

"Thank the Darkness for that, at least." His voice was heavy, weary. "Marian…what will happen now?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Lucivar." 

"I waited for her for years. She can't – just be gone. Just like that. Not after we fought so hard to save her. It's not fair." He rolled over and punched the pillow savagely. "She saves the three Realms, cleanses the taint, and _this _is her reward?" He choked on the tears, swallowing hard and denying them. "Damn them all," he whispered savagely. Daemonar stirred and Lucivar gathered him close, his heart constricting painfully in his ribs. 

Marian pulled him and their son into her embrace. "How's Daemon?" she asked. 

He could feel his face close off, sick rage clenching his stomach. "He's fine. Still sedated." He could hear the coldness in his voice. 

Her frown was audible. "Lucivar, he-"

He laid a finger against her lips, silencing her. "No," he said softly. "Don't. I know you think I'm being stupid and stubborn, but it's difficult to explain…I can't forgive him. Not now, not yet. Please don't ask me to." 

She fell silent, but he could feel her disapproval and it was only for a moment. "He has no one, Lucivar. Without Jaenelle –" 

"_Please_ –" he begged her. "Don't, Marian. You don't know what it was like for me." 

"To save us!"

"He played a _game_with me," Lucivar snapped, hands curling into fists. "A nasty, vicious game. You don't know him, Marian. The fear…I know what he can do. Give me time. To think, to relax, to forget. To know that you're safe and unharmed. Then…"

She sighed, but let it go. "It'll be all right." She said finally softly. 

Lucivar took a shuddering breath. _Not without Jaenelle_. "I love you."

"It'll be all right," she whispered, touching his cheek with infinite gentleness.

* * *

Wilhelmina curled up around the pillow and hugged it to her chest, feeling chilled despite the heap of blankets. She felt utterly alone, out of place amid the grieving of these people who had known her sister so much more than she had…she didn't feel like she could cry. There was just a peculiar sort of numb emptiness. It didn't seem real or possible that Jaenelle was actually _gone…_

Privately, Wilhelmina had always thought that she would die before Jaenelle did. Jaenelle was strong and brave and good. Wilhelmina was just – she was nothing next to Jaenelle. Cowardly and timid and weak. It wasn't right that Jaenelle was gone, strong, friendly, brave, sweet Jaenelle; and Wilhelmina lay here staring at the wall with no idea what to do with herself because she had no one to talk to, no one to grieve with. And if this was grief…it didn't feel like grief. Not the grief she had imagined. 

A small sound at the door and she sat up, jumping, clinging to her pillow like a shield. An enormous tiger padded in, sniffing around the room, and guilt flooded her stomach. She lay back down and watched him, rocking back and forth with her arms around her knees. 

Lady. Jaal, she remembered his name was. The father of the tiger who had been her friend here. And now he was dead, after that horrible evening with the terrible man and his crippled hands…she curled her hands into fists and bit back a sob, then felt bad. Here she was, crying over a tiger, and all she could feel for her own _sister's _death was that strange numbness and absence, like there was a hole in her stomach? 

Someone leapt up on her bed and the mattress sank. She looked down at the end and Jaal was sprawled there, tail twitching, watching her. If you wish, you may pet me. 

She turned around and reached out a hand to touch the fur around his ruff, where she'd tangled her fingers in Dejaal's fur while he was sleeping next to her on this very bed, keeping watch. 

_My son thought very highly of you, Lady._

She flushed. "Oh – thank you." She paused. "Why are you not gone? The other kindred have left…"

Jaal rolled over on his back and batted at the air, for all the world like an oversize kitten playing with an invisible ball of yarn. _They did not need me. _

She looked down. "Oh. I understand." 

His laughter was soft in her ears. _No, you do not. They did not need me. I will stay here with those such as you, so you are not alone. _

Wilhelmina paused, wondering if it was impolite to ask. "You don't seem sad…"

_Neither do you. _

Wilhelmina flushed and looked away. "I don't know…I'm just confused, I guess." 

Jaal sighed and butted his great head against her leg. _The kindred understand, _He said softly, and fell silent. She knew he wouldn't say anymore than that. 

Wilhelmina paused. "Do you…hate me?" She asked timidly. 

He looked at her sharply, tail lashing. _Why would I?_

She looked down, not wanting to meet his too intelligent eyes. "Your son is dead because of me."

Jaal growled, a rumble deep in his throat. _He was honored to serve. We all are. He died nobly and well. _

Wilhelmina chewed her lip and let it go. She didn't think she would ever understand the kindred. "Why Jaenelle?" She asked suddenly, on an impulse. "Why did she have to-"

_She is what she is. Her choices are her own. _He sounded almost as though he were scolding her. Wilhelmina sighed, accepting the answer that was not an answer. She lay down, resting her head on Jaal's side, listening to his heartbeat. He tolerated it, she sensed, only because she was Jaenelle's sister. And that was who she was here – all she was. 

"I'm going to miss her," she said timidly. Jaal looked at her and was silent for so long she thought he'd decided to leave. 

_We all would, Lady. Jaenelle is Kaeleer's Heart._

She sighed and looked toward the window. It was very dark outside, and she felt so terribly alone.

* * *

Saetan stood looking out the window, muscles aching. The cane leaned against the desk, waiting for his return, but he didn't need it yet. Not after the tonic Jaenelle had given him. He could see her, tired from innumerable sleepless nights, lines creasing her forehead with worry, brushing her hair impatiently back, knowing that it would be the last tonic she would ever make for him. 

_Take care of Daemon._

Another painful pang as he thought of his eldest son, deep in drugged sleep, the room carefully bare of any weapon. Not that Daemon would need one. He'd already lost a daughter and a friend. He did not want to lose another son as well. 

He breathed a heavy sigh, remembering Tersa's pleas after Draca's pronouncement that had nearly shattered everything. For patience, her insistence that he had to wait. Waiting, thought Saetan, was how he'd spent the entirety of his life. And just when he finally thought the waiting was over, again she was taken away, sacrificed. The land was safe, a war averted, but Mother Night…he wanted his daughter back. 

He closed his eyes and passed his hand over his face, looking down at his four fingered left hand. He hated Hekatah for doing this to Jaenelle, to Daemon, but it was too late for hatred of her now, less than a speck in the Darkness. And ache of the loss of Mephis, Peyton, Prothvar…and Andulvar, his Eyrien friend who had been there for the endlessly long years of waiting for the dream to be made flesh. Had he know? Had he seen that Jaenelle would destroy herself to cleanse the realms?

No, Saetan thought, no. Take care of the waif, he had said. 

"My friend," Saetan said to the night, "And if she will not let me protect her? Will you forgive me then?" Even if you can, he thought silently, I cannot forgive myself for failing my Queen, failing the daughter of my soul. 

"She is not gone. There is no need for forgiveness."

He whirled around and looked at Tersa where she was turning a piece of wood over and over in her hands. He caught a glimpse of colored ribbon and a heartstring twanged painfully as he remembered Jaenelle gleefully weaving them through the wood with her newfound skill. Tersa looked up and moved over to him, her feet hardly seeming to touch the floor. It reminded Saetan of a butterfly. 

"Saetan, it will be all right."

He looked away, veiling his anguish. He did not understand what Jaenelle had done for Tersa or how, but he was wary of upsetting her, all too aware that no matter what, Tersa was still not whole. She touched his shoulder lightly, insisting on his attention. 

"Trust one who knows. The dream is not gone." 

He said nothing, hating himself for doubting. If anyone could come back…but he would not hope, would not cause himself that new pain when each day passed and she did not return. "Tersa…"

She sighed, exasperated. "If it helps, you may hold me. I will not break." 

He winced and took her into a gentle embrace, closing his eyes. _Jaenelle, please. Come back. We need you. _

If dreaming could hold the dream to the flesh…the triangle had saved her, hadn't they? Or had they just saved her from something worse than a return to the Darkness? He closed his eyes and pushed the thoughts away. 

"The kindred are strong dreamers," Tersa whispered. "You must have faith in them."

It was hard to find faith in the bleak, empty chambers of the hall and the utter silence of mourning, thought Saetan, hard to find faith when everything was stripped away. Tersa began humming, and slowly, he recognized a lullaby that he had once sung to Daemon when he was kicking and keeping Tersa awake. His eyes filled.

_Jaenelle, please,_he begged the Darkness. _Just let me see Jaenelle again. Let me see her whole. Give me back my daughter._

* * *

Somewhere far away, deep beneath the Black Mountain, Lorn lay with one eye open and kept his silent vigil as something that had once been the Queen stirred with a small cry of yearning, the kindred gathered close around her. The Queen of Arachna skittered to the top of his head and watched.

_Kaeleer's Heart must be saved,_ she whispered in her small voice. Lorn did not reply. 


End file.
